Knights in Billowing Robes
by Siriusly Amused
Summary: ABANDONED! We all grew up on Fairy Tales but does everyone's fairy tale come true? Ginevra Weasley has everything planned out in her head, but life has other ideas. Instead of knights, she has boys. And instead of kingoms, she has mayhem!
1. Fairy Tale Stories

**Knights in Billowing Robes**

_By Siriusly Amused_

**Author's Note: **I was three chapters into this fic before Rupert got sick and lost all of my files. Now I have a whole new plot to this story, unfortunately the first chapter is pretty much the same, therefore I have to write it over. Hopefully I can write it better.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that the fabulous JK Rowling has copyrighted.

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Chapter One

_Fairy Tale Stories_

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, streaking the evening sky in varying shades of pinks and violets. The warm, summer breeze carried the intoxicating scent of honeysuckle and wrapped around nine-year-old Ginevra Weasley like a comfort blanket, causing her nightgown to blow about her knees and her long, freshly washed hair about her softly freckled face. She stood amongst the tall grass and flowers, her warm, brown eyes alert for any movement. After several minutes of patient waiting, Ginny caught sight of a soft blue light: a fairy.

She opened the large jar in her hand and, with reflexes that even her brothers could admire, snatched the fairy in the glass jail and sealed the lid on. She raised the jar in front of her face, and screwed up her eyes in inspection. Ten balls of light in varying pastel colors floated lazily around the inside. Ginny figured that ten ought to be enough and that she'd better return to her room before Ron got restless and wandered off to find something to do with the twins.

Ginny skipped through her yard, clutching the jar in her hands tightly. She littered grass through out the house as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Slowly she pushed her bedroom door open on it's squeaky hinges and entered as quietly as she could. In the middle of her room, basked in the bluish evening light, was a makeshift tent that consisted of a large sheet draped over assorted furniture. To some people, it would look like a mess, but to Ginny, it was a castle, and castles were the home of knights in shining armor.

A dull ball of light appeared in the middle of the tent, illuminating the frame of a small boy. Knights in shining armor...

"Lumos! Lumos! Come on you damn wand, lumos!"

Unfortunately for Ginny, this particular castle contained her eleven-year-old brother, Ron.

"You shouldn't swear, Ron," Ginny scolded, coming into the tent.

Ron tossed aside his newly acquired wand and placed his chin moodily in his hand. "I'm getting too old for this, you know; sitting in a tent full of fairies!"

He said it just as Ginny had opened the jar, the balls of light jetted out of it like shooting stars and zapped around them at an incredible speed before slowing down to float lazily about in the air. Ginny watched them glide around her for awhile, content with just being in her favorite place with her favorite brother. She loved fairies. She loved how they were different colors. She loved how they emanated grace and beauty. She didn't love, however, their vindictive nature. They loved to seduce men and trick women. That was why Ginny was glad that she and Ron were still children...or so she thought.

A pink fairy had just landed on Ron's bare knee. She cocked her head to one side and squinted at him for a moment before a devilish grin broke across her face and she began to dance in a seductive manner right there on his knee.

Ginny sighed. They saw it. It wasn't prominent yet, but they knew it was coming. Ron was on the brink of puberty. It was just earlier that week when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat Ron down and explained that the reason he was feeling tired, achy, and moody was that he was 'becoming a man' and that he would start growing at a 'rapid pace' very soon. By this time next year, he wouldn't fit in the tent anymore, much less want to be in it with his baby sister.

"What's the matter, Gin?" Ron asked, noticing her distraught state.

"Nothing," Ginny replied at once, swatting away the dancing fairy from Ron's knee and trying to smile.

Ron gazed at her oddly for a few moments before shrugging and bringing the plate of homemade cookies closer to him. "So what story do you want to hear tonight?" he asked through a mouthful of cookie. "I, myself, wouldn't mind a vampire one."

Ginny blushed. "Well, how about He Who Must Not Be Named and the Boy Who Lived?"

Ron rolled his eyes and picked up another cookie. "I've told you that one a hundred times, Gin!"

"I know, but...you're going to Hogwarts in two weeks and I won't get to see you for months and when you come home, you'll be too big for the tent and too big for telling me stories! I want this to be the last story you tell me!"

Ron sighed, his small shoulders visibly relaxing as he swallowed his last mouthful of cookie while looking pensive. "He's probably not even handsome, you know," he said at last in a matter of fact way.

Ginny knitted her brow. "Who?" she asked.

"Harry Potter," Ron replied as he leaned back upon his elbows and stretched out his legs in front of him. "I mean, according to Mum, he's my age."

"So?"

"So, that means he's a scrawny little thing!" Ron reasoned. "No facial hair, no deep voice, no muscles to rescue you from dragons and what not! I just don't see why you think of him as some," Ron paused as he thought of what word to use, "prince."

"He is a hero," Ginny stated, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.

Ron sighed again. "Yes, he is, Ginny, I'm not saying he's not. I'm just saying that he's not a prince. Britain already has princes, or haven't you noticed?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I know he's not a prince, but that doesn't change the fact that he's a hero, or the fact that he's powerful, or the fact that he lives in a castle!"

For a moment, they both were silent, then Ron snorted as a smirk crept across his face. "He lives in a what?"

"A...a castle," Ginny repeated. She felt her confidence slip a notch.

Ron chuckled, shook his head, and rubbed his eyes at the same time. "I hate to tell you this, Gin, but I heard that he stays with his Muggle relatives...in a house."

Ginny opened her mouth to retaliate but was cut off as her bedroom lights flickered on and the sheet that cloaked her and Ron was yanked away from them. The fairies shot out of her open window.

"What's this I hear about Muggles?" asked George as he closed Ginny's window.

"Harry Potter lives in one," stated Ron. He tried to pry the cookies away from Fred, but was having a hard time with it since Fred was two years older and had already hit puberty. Fred looked confused as he easily held onto the plate as Ron tugged at it.

"Harry Potter lives in a Muggle?" he asked.

"A Muggle house!" Ron clarified, giving up with the cookies and stomping across the room. "What are you two doing up here anyway?"

"Putting you two bed," explained George. "Mum's orders."

"Yeah, so what about the Muggle house?" continued Fred, ignoring his current brother duty that his mother had enlisted him with. "Everyone knows he lives somewhere with Muggle relatives."

"He does not!" Ginny cried out which startled all three of her brothers. "He lives in a castle!"

"He lives in a house!" Ron exclaimed.

"Castle!"

"House!"

"Castle!"

"House!"

"Ron, brush your teeth!"

Everyone paused and looked at Fred who held the plate of cookies in one hand and pointed to Ginny's door with the other. Ron just stared at his older brother for a minute before cursing under his breath and stomping out of the room with Fred fast on his heels.

"Good night, Gin," George said, ruffling his younger sister's hair as he too made his way to the door. Ginny got into her bed and pulled the covers over her. George waited until she was settled and turned off the light. He had the door half way closed when Ginny called out his name.

"Yeah?" he asked, leaning slightly into her room, one hand on the door knob.

"Harry Potter lives in a castle, right?"

Angry yells floated down the stairs to their ears. It seemed as though Fred was having a tough time getting Ron to go to bed. George paused before giving Ginny a slight smile.

"Yeah, Gin, he does." And with that, he shut her door. Ginny smiled and drifted off to sleep, not knowing that across the country, Harry Potter was being locked in a cupboard.

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**End Author's Note:** I have a cold and my brain is all delusional. This is more of a prologue than a chapter, but I wanted it to be a chapter, and it's my story therefore it is a chapter! Muahahaha!


	2. The Boy Who Lived to be Oblivious

**Knights in Billowing Robes**

_By Siriusly Amused_

**Author's Note:** Uggh...my head...I'm all drowsy.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Harry Potter characters...I on...I don't even have cough medicine...do you honestly think I own something as awesome as Harry Potter?

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Chapter Two

_The Boy Who Lived to be Oblivious_

The small, wooden door that was the entrance to the cupboard under the stairs at Number Four Privet Drive retched open hastily and caused a small cloud of dust to fall upon a sulking, eighteen-year-old Harry Potter. He coughed and brushed the offending mess off of himself before leaning back and crossing his arms once again. Dudley's round face peered into the cupboard, confusion written all over it.

"What are you doing in there?" he asked his cousin. It had been years since Harry was forced to live in the cupboard.

"I'm sulking!" Harry shot back angrily.

Dudley rolled his eyes as his mother came beside him and peered into the dark cupboard as well. Something in Aunt Petunia had changed since fifth year. Maybe she realized the severity of the war that was waging in the wizarding world. Maybe she realized that Harry had actually saved her son that night back when the two were fifteen. Or maybe she realized that she would have to confront her sister someday in the afterlife. Whatever the reason, Aunt Petunia had started treating Harry better. She didn't spoil him like she did Dudley, but she did talk to him kindly. She let him vent about the war. She bought him clothes that actually fit him and she even allowed him to get his driver's license the year before, which was nice even though Harry didn't get a car (Dudley got two).

"Harry," Aunt Petunia said gently, "why don't we get some tea?"

Harry glared at her for a minute before getting up and leaving the cupboard. Aunt Petunia stared at her nephew. She was still getting used to what she saw. It had been a great shock when Harry had appeared at their door step a month before. He was finished with school, an adult in the wizarding world now, free to live where he wanted, and yet, he came back to them. To _them _of all people!

Almost as shocking as seeing him home, was seeing his appearance. Over the years, the Dursleys had gotten used to seeing him come home taller and more adult looking, so the fact that he was now an inch or so taller than Mr. Dursley didn't shock them. They had also gotten very used to Harry coming home with bandages and wounds from unknown battles, so they weren't shocked at his battered state.

They were shocked, however, with the absence of Harry's glasses and the fact that his eyes glowed a bright green. On his first night back, Harry and Dudley had ran into each other in the dark hallway, each on their way to the bathroom, and Harry's glowing eyes had scared Dudley enough to wet himself. The other big change was Harry's hair. It was pure white. Vernon had yelled at Harry for dying his hair such an unnatural color, but Petunia had hushed him when the boy didn't respond to the yells. She had a sinking suspicion that his hair had not been dyed. She told her husband and son to leave Harry alone, that he probably had a rough year and needed peace and quiet to himself, and so for the past month, the family watched as Harry Potter tried to return to normal.

"Are we getting tea or not?" Harry asked his aunt, forcing her out of her thoughts. Petunia nodded and motioned for Dudley to leave them as she led Harry into the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. Harry sat down at the table and stared at his hands. Petunia went right back to wondering about his physical appearance.

After a few days home, his eyes had returned back to normal. No more glowing at least. He still didn't wear his glasses and the Dursleys had to wonder if he had even brought his glasses home that summer. He didn't appear to need them. They caught him reading and watching TV without them and he wasn't squinting so unless he was just staring at the book and television for the sake of having something to stare at, his vision was quite fine.

His hair was growing back black. At the moment it was half and half. Black roots with white ends. He greatly resembled a skunk.

The kettle shrieked and Petunia finished making the tea. She went to the table and set a cup in front of Harry while sitting across from him. "So," she stated, holding her tea cup in her hands as Harry took a sip of his, "he's dead?"

Harry nodded. He had told his aunt of the prophesy the summer before.

"And your hair and eyes?" Petunia asked, eyeing the white tips of Harry's hair.

Harry shrugged. "Something about my excessive use of magic when I killed him. I don't know, Dumbledore was telling me but I was bombarded by paparazzi at the time so I didn't really pay attention."

Petunia raised her eyebrows at the mention of paparazzi but didn't say anything. She now knew why Harry had come back; he needed to just get away.

"So now what?" Petunia asked. Harry merely shrugged his shoulders. The two sat in silence for a few minutes before a loud 'pop' sounded somewhere to Petunia's right and Ron apparated into the room.

"MY WORD!" Petunia exclaimed, looking at the redheaded teenager standing next to her. Ron gave a slight jump upon seeing her, but he soon recovered. His blue eyes traveled around the room.

"I've never been in a room with so many electrical appliances," he stated in awe as he walked over to the microwave and began pushing buttons.

Harry blushed at his friend's amusement with the microwave and quickly got up to stop Ron from hugging the blender.

"Sorry," Ron apologized when he realized that he had been acting like his father. His blue eyes lingered on Harry's weirdly colored hair for a moment before he turned and looked at Aunt Petunia who was still sitting at the table, looking at Ron as if he were mad.

"Er...Aunt Petunia, this is my friend, Ron," Harry informed, indicating Ron. "And, Ron, this is my aunt." They nodded curtly to each other.

"Anyway, Harry, I came here to tell you something important!" Ron stated, suddenly becoming urgent.

Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Well, you know how...our kind...has been greatly diminished in the war?"

Harry nodded. Over half of the wizarding population had died.

"Well there's talk about how, if we don't do something, the wizarding world will die out. Complete rubbish if you ask me, but the stupid ministry is all worried about it."

"So?" Harry asked.

"So, they're...they're arranging marriages."

The kitchen was in total silence for two minutes exactly before Aunt Petunia asked Harry if she could attend his wedding.

"Come again?" Harry asked Ron.

"You heard me," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest.

A cold sweat broke on Harry's forehead.

"But, what if I stayed in the Muggle world?" Harry asked; it took all he had to say it.

Ron shook his head. "By law, both wizard and Muggle, everyone who has an once of magic in their blood must marry someone else who had magic in them. The good news is that we only have to be married for a year. The ministry is just hoping that some of the marriages will produce children. Also, if you already have someone in mind, you can marry them, as long as they're magical."

The last statement did not make Harry feel any better. He never fell in love with anyone and therefore had no choice other than to marry whoever the ministry picked for him.

"So," Ron continued. "I need you to come to town to help me."

"Help you!?" Harry exclaimed, his now infamous anger rising. "Help you with what?"

"Buy a ring, of course," Ron stated, heading out of the kitchen door.

"You're going along with this!?" Harry yelled, behind him. "What the hell do you need a ring for?"

Ron looked over his shoulder at Harry, a smirk playing across his features. "To ask Hermione to marry me, of course."

Harry stood frozen at Ron's words. He smiled for a moment, happy for his friends, but then became even more depressed than what he was before. Harry did not think that anyone loved him and so he would be forced to be in a marriage with someone for a year because of it.

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**End Author's Note: **I wrote my first author's note last week, so my cold's better now! But my side hurts. Anywho, I don't have much to say.


End file.
